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What is it about Christmas time and kitties? The tree, the wrapping paper, the new stuff that has to be sniffed and investigated and inventoried, the abortive attempts to decorate the cats themselves. (Sadly, my cats miss out on the tree and its accompanying pile of wrapped presents.)
My memories of Christmas are often peopled by, well, cats. Prissy, the tiny Siamese kitten playing in the tinsel when I was 3. The original Coco, posing with reindeer antlers made for a dog for all of 10 seconds, barely long enough to snap a photo, and that with a really pissed face. More recently, the first Christmas I visited after my parents got Coco II. As soon as we put all the wrapped presents I had brought for them under the tree, he started shredding them. Just the ones I had brought, though...
Perhaps when I am visiting my mother over the holiday this year, I will go through the old picture albums and scan some of my own classic Christmas cat memories in.
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